


Lips Touch.

by biblio_witch



Series: On My Whole Heart. [Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.] [4]
Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016), Pride and Prejudice and Zombies - Jane Austen & Seth Grahame-Smith
Genre: Cute, F/M, Kissing, Sexual Content, Violence, Zombies, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-23 06:36:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6108139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblio_witch/pseuds/biblio_witch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Darcy wakes Elizabeth with a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lips Touch.

**Author's Note:**

> I made a promise that this would be put up here today to a very eager reader, so the last little story hasn't yet been edited so there may be a few mistakes, but I'll edit asap so just bear with.   
> Hope you enjoy!

The sun was perfect for today, Darcy observed. He enjoyed the outdoors, but he particularly liked it today. Not because he was hunting or fishing or any other of the required sports that was considered necessary for a man to excel in. But because his wife-to-be was asleep in his lap, and he'd never before appreciated the sun until this moment. 

He was thankful for the warmth of it, keeping the chill away so she could rest so peacefully. Her cheek was resting just over his heart, and so he could see every detail of her face, lit radiantly by the light of the afternoon. Her eyelashes brightened to gold, and locks of her hair were run through with it too, turning her from a mere human to something sublime and otherworldly. 

Her lips were cast in the most inviting shade of pink, her eyelids riddled with delicate blue veins, her cheeks tainted pink with the heat. Darcy wondered, not for the first time, how he'd come to deserve such a woman. Such a divine and wonderful creature. Not only was she intelligent, amusing, infinitely beautiful and endlessly patient and compassionate, there was her skills as a warrior, unparalleled. Though her body felt soft and pliant in his arms, he knew there to be nothing but hard muscle beneath the porcelain skin. 

What had he done to deserve her? Certainly nothing he could think of. He'd never been a kind man, nor a forgiving one. He tried to be generous, but only when the recipient was worth of that generosity. All the things he'd done in his life he'd done out of selfishness. Fighting the zombie plague had been to settle some inner anger that he'd held onto ever since his father turned. He'd made friends, and he held them high esteem and regard, would sacrifice anything for them, but he'd done that only after deeming they were of good rank. Arrogant, was the word. 

Then, he had met this woman. This storm of a woman who'd fought him rather than accepted his hand. Who had refused to allow him to ignore the arrogance and pride in his heart. Not only had she reminded him of who he was, quite spectacularly, she'd accepted that. She'd looked upon his flaws and she'd fallen in love with him anyway. Her love would have been enough, but she'd come after him that day at Lazarus. She'd saved his life while putting hers on the line, and she'd done it willingly and happily, because she loved him. 

How she'd come to love him, he didn't know. He wasn't sure at which moment she'd overcome her prejudices towards him, whether it be his letter, or perhaps his rescue of her sister, he wasn't sure. Hadn't wanted to ask, in fact. 

Perhaps it wasn't about him deserving her, however. Perhaps it was more about her deserving him. Not that he thought himself worthy of her love, but she certainly deserved a husband who adored her, who would dote on her and sacrifice for her and cherish her above all else. He didn't deserve Elizabeth Bennett, but Elizabeth deserved a man who loved her more than life itself, and that's exactly how Darcy felt. 

Overcome with emotion, Darcy leaned down to press his lips briefly to hers. It was strange to not have her responding, she was usually so forceful and enthusiastic, but this was sweet and delicate, something that might be broken easily. Darcy poured his heart into that one press of his lips. 

His emotions must have run away with him, because when he leaned back her eyelids were fluttering, a small moan emitting from her lips as she turned her face into his shoulder.

"I didn't mean to wake you." He murmured, arms tightening around her waist.

"No," Her eyes were still closed but there was a smile on her face, her hands clenching on his clothes. "That was the most perfect way to be woken, thank you."

"You're welcome." He chuckled, and leaned down to kiss her once more. She responded this time, but it was just as sweet and delicate as before, lazy almost. Like they had all the time in the world.

"For a moment I thought we were already married." She chuckled and sat up, hands still on his chest but eyes open so she could look down at him. Her hair was a mess of curls. "I assumed I was in bed, and when I felt your kiss I couldn't stop myself from thinking, 'There he is, my husband.' I suppose I'm just looking forward to that."

"I am too." He assured her, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "I promise to never wake you any other way."

"I appreciate that." She laughed, and leaned down to kiss him more fully on the mouth.  

***

Darcy turned from the window at the sound of Elizabeth's groan. He peered across the room, concerned that the cause of it was pain from injuries sustained yesterday. But he found her sleeping, face turned towards him and cushioned by a tangle of dark curls, she was merely stirring from sleep, wrapped up in the white silk sheets they'd slept in together. Saticified that she was all right, he turned back to the view of the grounds, mist curling up over the lawns.

He hadn't wanted to sleep with her. Well, he _had_ , but he'd thought it best not to. Their wedding day had been eventful enough, leaving them both exhausted with a few injuries. Elizabeth had the worst of it, with a deep cut at her ribs that had also served to bruise them severely. Darcy had carried her back to her own room, ready to leave her, but she'd insisted on being brought to their wedding suite. 

Catherine had it arranged, of course. With a bed so big it could only be described as obnoxious. There was a fire and a bath waiting for them, and so many vases of flowers that it had made his eyes water when he'd come in. He wasn't exactly sure what passed for romantic, but he was positive that dying weeds that let off a foul stench didn't count. 

Again, he'd tried to leave her. Darcy hadn't wanted to intrude, had wanted to give her space and let her recover before they did anything that involved a bed, but Elizabeth - wielding that scornful frown that always served to make him laugh - had been ridiculously stubborn on the matter. She'd tried to reason with him, but of course, he was just as stubborn as her. Then she'd tried to seduce him, which only served to leave him with reddened cheeks and her giggling loudly. After that, she'd turned to threats. Proclaiming from the bed that she would run off into the night with some stable boy, he hadn't even looked up from cleaning his sword, sat halfway across the room, but he had let loose a snort. 

Eventually, she'd crossed the room to sit in his lap and wrap her arms around his neck. She'd given a great long speech about loving him and the dangerous life they led and how both of them could die at any time. Darcy, weakened by her glistening eyes and the feel of her in his arms in nothing but a thin nightdress, hoisted her up into his arms to carry her across the room and to the bed. 

It _had_ been a very good speech, in his defense. 

Never had he been so happy and so terrified all at once. It was everything that he'd ever wanted, for them to be so close, to finally have her under him, to finally kiss her with reckless abandon, to let loose all those restrictions he'd held so tight to while they were engaged. 

But never had he been so aware of hurting her, of nudging her injury, of being too rough, of leaving marks on that satin smooth skin. He'd held back immensely, and it had taken every inch of self control that he possessed. 

Elizabeth groaned again, and he turned this time as he heard her shift on the bed. He crossed and took a seat beside her, wanting to climb into the sheets with her but conscious that the early morning had left his bare skin chilled.

She was lying on her stomach, hair spewing down her back and across her pillow. The sheets were pooled at the base of her spine, her torso bare and exposed to the cold. 

Darcy, unable to help himself, leaned over to press a kiss to the small of her back. She reacted immediately, just a small twitch of her shoulder and turn of her head, but enough for him to know she was conscious enough to feel him. He kissed her again, further up her back, pressing damp, warm kisses to the perfect snowy flesh of his wife. He continued upwards, following the path of her spine until he was between her shoulder blades, and then he brushed her hair to one side and followed the curve of her shoulder. 

Her eyes were still closed, but she was smiling, lip caught between her teeth. She flexed her shoulders, emitting a small sigh of contentment. 

He leaned over again, fingers curled around the back of her neck, to press a kiss to her lips. Elizabeth, always eager, kissed him back without hesitation. Darcy started to pull away, but her hand caught his bicep and held him in place, and then as she twisted to lie on her back she drew him down with a hand in his hair. 

After a moment, seeming satisfied, she broke the kiss and leaned back into the pillows, grinning. She didn't bother to draw up the sheets to cover herself. 

"Good morning, Mr Darcy." She said, voice rough with sleep. His heart ached in his chest. 

"Good morning, Mrs Darcy." The sentence felt like honey on his tongue, warming him up from the inside. He would never get tired of saying it. 

Elizabeth only then gave him a glance over and quirked an eyebrow. 

"Is the house on fire?" 

"What? No, of course not." 

"Then what possible reason is there for you being out of bed?" 

He chuckled and bent to press a kiss to her forehead, smoothing back her hair. "I was just thinking." 

At this, she rolled her dark eyes towards the ceiling. "Brooding, more like. About last night?" 

"It's not that I didn't enjoy-" He coughed and looked away, frowning. "It's just that-" 

"You think I'm a delicate flower so easily damaged by your monstrous hands." She scoffed and sat up, hair swinging over her shoulders to frame her face. She gripped his cheeks in her warm palms and stared with determination into his eyes. "I am not delicate, nor am I breakable. I think I've proven that several times over, so it's time you stopped being so worried about how you handle me." 

He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but she spoke loudly over his protest. 

"I am a warrior, William." She glared at him, "A better one than you, so it falls to me to be careful with _you,_ and it also falls to me to be offended that you think you could hurt me in the first place." 

Elizabeth stuck her nose up in the air, finished with her declaration. He stared at her for a long moment, lips pursed, before kissing the tip of her nose. She tried to hold the scowl in place, but it easily broke. 

He took her hands in his, and stared at them as he spoke. "I find it hard to convince myself that you love me, Elizabeth. Not that I doubt you. But I doubt sometimes that this is real, sometimes I wake up and I'm convinced that I've dreamed it all, and only when I see your face light up at the sight of me do I dare believe that this could be real." He looked up and into her eyes, riddled with sadness. "I'm terrified, constantly, that I'll do something to change your mind. Starting with hurting you." 

"You can be so ridiculous, Darcy." She sighed, rolling up onto her knees and bracing her hands against his shoulders. "I am your wife." She said it with a solid firmness that wasn't to be argued with. "I love you with my whole heart. I am not going anywhere. Now, you get to wake up every morning with me beside you, so you never again have to worry about thinking this is a dream." 

There was nothing to be done other than a simple nod from him.

Perhaps one day she could convince him that he deserved this and that it was real. But for now, he could merely clamber into bed beside her and wrap his arms around her body, pulling it tight to his own. He tucked the heavy sheets tight around them to fend off the cold, but Elizabeth's lips on his throat did that quite well enough. 

"Was it not enough to coerce me into bed last night?" He grumbled, though couldn't find one reasonable objection in his head. 

 "Coerce." She snorted, rising up on her elbow to hover over him, her breasts firm against his chest with one full thigh slung over his hips. "That speech was utterly honest and completely heartfelt." She gave a dramatic sniffle, and broke into laughter at his scowl. "I don't believe any wife has ever had so much trouble convincing their husbands into bed in all the history of marriage." 

"I doubt any of those husbands had such a vixen for a wife," He smirked up at her, arms winding tight around her waist and one hand twisting up into her hair, knotting it around his fist. "Nor one that has such severe battle wounds on their wedding night." 

"It's nothing but a scratch." She muttered, shifting until she was atop him, hands on either side of his head, hair spilling down around his face, hips pressed close to his. She was leaving a trail of red and aching bite marks across his collarbone. 

Darcy's breathing quickened and his hands went to her hips, guiding them as they rolled down into his. His right hand inched down, pressed close between her thighs. Elizabeth moaned against his chest. 

"You truly are a wonder." She murmured in his ear, teeth grazing his earlobe. "Though, after last night, I'm convinced that you're much more tame than people think you to be." 

With a growl, he seized her wrists and rolled her over. 

***

  _"Elizabeth!"_

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe because he couldn't see her any longer. She'd been right there, right in the corner of his eye. Panic lodged in his throat as he twisted, wild with fear that his wife had been lost. 

The battle had been raging for more than three days. Hordes had attacked Rosings, coordinated strikes that served to weaken the defenses of the great manor. Many of Catherine's guards had been killed or turned, and her guests were becoming more and more frightened and provisions were becoming scarce. Any longer and the majority would be too weak to fight. 

Everyone who was willing had rushed out of the main gates at dawn, some on horseback and some on foot. Darcy and Elizabeth had walked out together, side by side, and that's how they had stayed. 

Until a moment ago. 

A zombie lunged, it's throat torn out and muscle hanging limply against its chest, with grey skin and eyes yellow with decay. It was an automatic response to slice its head from its shoulders. 

"Liz!" Darcy shouted, turning again. Smoke was rising from various fires, clogging the air and making visibility sparse. 

He started towards where he'd last seen her, barely twenty paces from where he'd been. His sword flashed through the air as he went. The mere magnitude of the dead was profound, so much so there was barely room to place your foot without stepping on a corpse or disregarded limb. Even so, despite their numbers, they were no match for Darcy' skill, and they fell in heaps around him. 

Darcy found that fear made him faster, wilder, his swings more powerful but less precise. His father would have scolded him for such sloppiness, but he could not have cared if he'd wanted to. He would give his sword arm for his wife. 

"Darcy!" He turned, knowing already it was not Elizabeth and heart sinking with the knowledge. 

Catherine stood opposite, splattered with the black blood of the dead and crimson blood of the living. There was a tear in the forearm of her coat and a long, deep gash gushing blood. She carved a zombie in two as she stood there, and thrust a small ax into the skull of another. 

"She rushed to aid Mary, that way!" Catherine pointed to the left of where he'd been heading. 

He didn't have time to thank her, instead doing his best to run. With the smoke so thick in the air, coating the inside of his throat and falling into his eyes, it was all he could do to keep his sword up and hope that the undead ran into it. They lunged out of the fog, teeth bared, mouth foaming and hands outstretched. 

He was usually so alert, so adapt at being calm in perilous situations. But there was a thousand different images flashing behind his eyes, making it hard for him to breathe, making him choke on the fear, making his heart falter in his chest. 

Elizabeth, unable to call for help from beneath a mass of zombies, all tearing at her. Elizabeth, knocked unconscious and completely unable to defend herself. Elizabeth, cold and lifeless in the mud, eyes empty of life and skin cool to the touch. 

Tears burned his vision, and it made him clumsy as he stumbled on, shouting her name with a voice that broke and cracked as it left his lips. 

He ducked through a plume of smoke and half tripped over the crater in the ground, grenades had been handed out generously, and no doubt fires had been started hastily to burn the dead before they could rise to rejoin the ranks. 

A hand snagged his ankle and he crashed to the ground, landing hard on his shoulder. There was more than one pair of hands now, scrambling up his legs, seeking a way to his flesh. Darcy sat up, wincing, jerking his dagger from his belt to rid his body of the limbs. A nail slashed through his trousers and into his thigh, cutting deep, and the zombie who delivered the blow received a dagger through the eye socket for its troubles. 

One final slice of his dagger up through the jaw of a female zombie, head scalped and lips missing, and he scrambled to his feet and retrieved his katana from the dirt. 

"Darcy!" He whirled at the voice, knowing it to be Mary's. 

Her glasses were missing, her dark hair unbound and tangled around her shoulders. There was a deep bruise across her cheek, quickly becoming a raw welt. She'd been hit hard. That would be an explanation for why she was sprawled on the ground, her dress covered in mud. He moved automatically towards her, ready to offer aid.  

"Lizzie's here!" 

The words released a dam of relief in his chest. If Elizabeth was in the company of one of her sisters, then she would be fine. They protected each other fiercely, without reserve or thought for their own lives. Of course she was okay. 

He didn't remember running, but suddenly he was stood above Mary, looking down on his Elizabeth. 

This was why Mary was on the ground; she was hunched over Liz, who was immobile among the dirt. Mary was shielding her with her own body, lashing out and dismembering any undead that wandered too near. 

"What happened?" Darcy demanded, falling to his knees next to his wife, the grief in his chest rising, an endless suffering that was the very notion of a life without her. 

"I was blindsided," Mary reported loudly over the noise, standing to take up a stance before her brother-in-law and sister, ready to defend them. "She saw me fall and ran to help me, dispatched the zombie and helped me to my feet. That's when a grenade landed near us; Someone must have misjudged a throw. She threw me out of the way and was thrown off her feet by the blast." 

She'd been hit by the explosion from a grenade? Darcy almost passed out with fear. 

He inspected her quickly, running his hands along her face and down over her body, testing for patches of blood and inspecting for tears in her clothing that would signify a wound. There was a deep cut on the back of her head, the left side of her jaw and throat raw and red where no doubt fire had licked her skin, her left hand and wrist showing the same burns. Her clothes had taken most of the damage, and he thanked the heavens above that she'd been covered completely by her clothes, or else the damage would have been far worse. 

The blast must have slammed her into the ground, and it was the cut on her head that had knocked her unconscious. Her pulse was sure and steady beneath his fingertips. 

"Elizabeth?" He leaned over to murmur, shaking her shoulder gently to rouse her. "Liz? Elizabeth?" 

Still, she wouldn't wake. 

He had to get her back inside Rosings, get her to the physician. There would be some form of medicine there to wake her. She would be fine, as long as he got her to safety. 

Darcy, half energised by fear and half faint with relief, leaned over his wife to press his lips to hers. His hands cupped her face, shaking with adrenaline. His tears stained his cheeks and turned the kiss damp and salty, but all he could think was how glad he was to have found her lips again. He wouldn't survive without them.

Elizabeth shifted beneath him.

He yanked back, staring down, hoping and praying he hadn't imagined it. But no - Her eyelids were fluttering, her nose scrunching as she began to wake. Her head twisted and she grimaced.

"Elizabeth?" He gasped, pushing her hair back from her face.

"William." She murmured, her eyes were slow to open, and she blinked in confusion when she saw him. "Why are you all dirty?" 

"The middle of a battle is not the most opportune moment to take a nap, my love." He smiled at her.

"Ah well, I thought being hit by a grenade would be the perfect excuse." Her smile was groggy, but she had memories of what had happened. That was a good sign. "Plus, I knew you would rescue me." 

"Always will, Mrs Darcy." He scooped her up so she was in a sitting position, and she gave her head a shake to dislodge all the dirt in her hair. Her hand curled around the back of his neck, and she gave him a smile so full of adoration that even in the middle of the battle Darcy had to wonder what he'd done to deserve that look. 

"It's about time, too." She grumbled as he helped her carefully to her feet. "I believe it was the other way around, last time an explosion went off." 

"We'll have to start keeping a tally." He chuckled, tucking her against his side. She was strong enough to walk, and after Mary had rushed over to inspect her sister, the younger Bennett moved off in front, clearly a path ahead for them.

"I believe then that I am in the lead."

"That isn't the point."

She laughed, but it quickly turned to a cough. The burns on her face were starting to look more and more severe. Darcy tried his best to hurry her along, but she was wobbly on her feet. He would have gladly carried her, but there was no one to watch their backs. He needed his free arm.

"It'll be all right, William." She assured him with a weak smile. Though it was a sorry attempt, it did its job of easing his nerves. Of course it would be, they were together. 

"I know." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, tightened his arm around her waist, and together they waded through the battle, back towards safety. 


End file.
